


Genevieve

by QuietWatcher



Category: Merry Gentry - Laurell K Hamilton
Genre: F/M, Mary Sue, OFC - Freeform, One Shot, PWP, Tentacles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-15
Updated: 2011-03-15
Packaged: 2017-10-16 23:58:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/170753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuietWatcher/pseuds/QuietWatcher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A pointless self indulgent smut fic with a canon character who is kept (at least mostly) in character.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Genevieve

Genevieve ran a hand through the black waves of her hair, sweeping it behind a delicately pointed ear. Her other arm supported a pair of large text books. A moment later she regretted exposing her ear as a young masculine voice called out to her rudely.

“Heeey, you one of them sidhe thangs?” He had that stereotypical look of a young man who listens to violent rap music and is always looking for a fight, a high, or a girl to fuck.

“Dude, you blind? Course she's a she; look at those titties.” Flushing a bit, Genevieve shifted her books so that they were covering up her chest and wrapped both arms around them. “What you go an do that for? I was enjoying them thangs girly.”

The group of three began following her. “I wasn't talkin' about her bein' a girl dumbshit; I meant sidhe like a fairy. Y'know, one of them elves.”

“Oh, oh yeah. I see it. She got them pointy ears.” The third had yet to speak but his gaze was the most unnerving. “She kinda like you huh man?” Teasingly, he elbowed the one who had yet to speak, but backed down quickly when he received a glare. “N-not that there's anythin' wrong with bein' part elf.”

When he spoke, his voice was smoother and darker than the those of the other two. “Nothing wrong with it at all. Makes sex a lot more fun.” He had a similar urban accent to his friends.

Genevieve gulped and started to walk faster. “Please, just leave me alone.” The third slipped past her, stepping in front of her and forcing her to a stop. Trembling she met his gaze, noted the three rings of color; the outermost a dark stormy gray, the middle dark blue, and the innermost ring an unnerving crimson. Genevieve froze, her own eyes three shades of tropical sea blue widened fearfully. He took a step forward and she backed away until her back was up against the brick wall of an alley.

“You're pretty hot. How far back is the sidhe blood in your family?” He was strong, tall, and very intimidating as he swept the hair back from her face tucking it behind her ears on both sides.

“M-my father was a wanderer.” She stammered unable to look away from him.

His eyes widen briefly in surprise then narrowed in a predatory way. “You're half. I can hardly wait to see how good that feels...” A wicked grin settled on his face.

“Get away from me!” Dropping most of her books to the ground, she tightens her grip on the thickest and slams him in the face with it. A sickly wet crunch accompanies the breaking of his nose followed by a shouted curse of pain.

“Goddamn fucking bitch!! Grab her!” A pair of hands catch hold of either arm and they drag her further into the alley.

“Let go! Help! Somebody! Help me!!”

“Shut the fuck up!” An open palm strikes her cheek sending her head jerking to the side. Sobbing quietly, she droops between the two holding her. “You're gonna fucking regret that you stupid bitch.”

A wicked hiss like that of a large animal comes from the shadows of the alley. “Wretched boys. You have no right to that girl. Leave her now, while you are still able.” The croaking voice sounded like that of an old woman but incredibly malevolent and powerful.

“Who's there!? You better show yourself.” A cackling laugh met his words.

“If you insist...” Out of the darkness stepped a tall hag from a nightmare or an old Brothers Grimm story.

“...”

“What the fuck is that?”

“That is one ugly fucking bitch.”

Another angry hiss, this time the source was obvious. “You young ones have no respect. Leave, before I teach it to you. That is your last warning.”

One of the boys released his hold on Genevieve's arm and swaggered forward. “You better go home to your knitting 'fore you get fucked up old lady.”

Suddenly she's standing in front of him, her thick uneven nails scratching the back of his neck as her fingers close around his throat. “Impudent little whelp.” She snarls and throws him forward so that he flies past his friends before skidding along the concrete. The other punk holding Genevieve promptly lets go and runs. “And cowards too.” She added in a derisive tone.

The third turns his eerie gaze on Genevieve. “Another time.” He promises her, and retreats swiftly wiping the blood from his nose.

Shaking a bit with relief and fear, she turns to the hag. “Th-thank you, thank you so much. I...please, if there's anything I can do for you in return...” Dark black eyes narrowed, staring, scrutinizing Genevieve intently.

“My king is lonely. The comfort I can offer him is not desired. He longs for a woman of the sidhe in his bed, but those bitches refuse to touch him. You are closer to their sort than any other he could have this night.” Genevieve felt the color drain from her face a bit. A king? She didn't like to think what sort of king this frightful creature might follow especially if other women were turning him down, but she was sincerely grateful.

“I...I can try, but I...” she flushed hotly as she knelt to retrieve her scattered books, “I don't really have a lot of uhm experience with men, and even less with kings.” A king!? She could still hardly fathom the word. It was like something out of a movie or book. Judging by the hag, the genre would be horror. Genevieve shuddered at the thought, reminding herself forcibly what she had just been saved from.

“I will accept your effort as fair recompense for my rescue of you.” She waited until the girl had recovered all of her things. “Close your eyes.” Swallowing nervously, Genevieve did so and gasped a bit in fright as a bony arm wrapped around her shoulders. “Calm yourself. I am merely transporting us.” A soft breeze seemed to whirl around them, then the air they breathed was suddenly damp with the scent of a deep cavern. “This way.” The arm slipped away, and Genevieve opened her eyes. Low guttering torches lined walls of rough rock casting eerie flickering shadows. Tentatively, then hurrying to catch up with the long legged stride of the hag, she followed the older woman.

The long hall abruptly turned and became a labyrinth of corners and oddly angled intersections. Slowly the tunnels widened, acquiring a rough sort of grandness. Then the pace was slowing as they passed door after door. At last they came to a large wooden door guarded on either side by winged creatures with flat faces, enormous unblinking eyes, and tentacles writhing out from their middles. Gesturing them to stand aside, the hag turned to Genevieve. “Sholto, King of the Sluagh is within, resting. Wake him gently, and do what you can to ease his need.”

Wide eyed, she nodded accepting the task and entered the door held open for a moment by one of the guards whom she gazed out with obvious discomfort. Creeping past him quickly, she held her breath as it shut the door solidly behind her. “Wow...” The room was large, carpeted with furs, a low fire crackled in an old fashioned stone hearth, tapestries hung on the walls to cover the stone, and an elegantly carved writing desk stood against one wall with a low burning candle atop it and a closed laptop that looked incongruous with the rest of the décor. Her eyes swept across and settled on the large four poster bed with drawn curtains. It was set up off the floor a little ways with a ramp leading up to it. What would the king look like? Freakishly tall? Green skin? Warts? Growths? Extra limbs?? Was he ancient and decrepit?

Quietly she set her text books on the desk and with her heart beating faster at each step up the ramp, she approached the bed. Her fingers trembled as she caught hold of the edge of the curtain and pulled it slowly back. A sharp gasp of surprise escaped her lips as she stared at the handsome pale face of the man asleep in the bed. Could this really be the king of those frightening things? Pursing her lips, she leaned forward, the curtain falling against her side as she reached out to touch his cheek lightly.

“Leave me.” He mumbled, eyes still shut as he turned away from her.

“I'm sorry. I can't. I said I would try to make you feel better.” Her cheeks were colored brightly with rosy heat as she explained. For a moment, she thought he had fallen asleep again and not heard her, then he sat up. His body echoed the gorgeous features of his face, but seemed to glow faintly between his chest and belly.

“Who brought you here?” Sholto questioned her in a soft tone. She was pretty and very innocent looking. Long black wavy hair, fair skin almost as pale as his own, and beautiful eyes.

“I don't know. There were these three guys that were...they were going to rape me I think, and then this,” she hesitated not wanting to say ugly, “this old woman, kinda scary looking, she showed up and told them to leave me alone. When one of them got mouthy with her she picked him up and threw him. The other one ran after seeing that and the third,” she shuddered remembering his threat, “he left too, but not as quickly.”

Sholto knew at once who had brought the girl to him. “What's your name?”

She opened her mouth then closed it again. “Mom taught me not to give my true name to Sidhe folk...” It felt rude saying this, but she'd heard more than enough scary stories to keep this rule firmly in mind at all times.

Sholto smiled a bit. “A good habit to have. What may I call you?”

“I...uhm...you can call me Neeve.” She glanced again at his belly and chewed on her lower lip as though wanting to say something but reluctant to do so. Instead of asking the question she really wanted to, she said, “What should I call you, uhm, your majesty?”

Despite himself, Sholto found he could not help but chuckle at her shyness. “Sholto is one of my names. You don't have to say highness or majesty.” She wasn't one of his subjects, though a part of him wished it were otherwise.

“Sholto...that's an interesting name.” Again her eyes flicked to his belly and he frowned a bit.

“Why do you keep staring at my stomach?” Genevieve flushed brightly and turned her gaze away.

“I'm sorry. You're just using so much glamour, I can't really help it. I've always been able to see glamour magics, for as long as I can remember.” She glanced back at him apologetically. “Are you covering up scars or something...?” The question had been burning in her thoughts since she'd noticed the glow. Scars, that's what her father had always used his glamour to cover up. He had a lot of them and would never tell her how he'd gotten them. Though, there had not been many opportunities to ask.

“Something...” Sholto murmured and turned his gaze to the foot of the bed.

Slowly, Genevieve climbed onto the bed, kneeling on her knees as the curtain swung shut behind her and the light grew dimmer. The white button up blouse, snug fitted gray vest, short plaid skirt, and knee high white sock resembled a costume, but were in fact her school uniform. “Is it something most people don't like?”

“Yes.” Slowly, she reached out to touch his chest, one trembling finger grazing slowly down to the middle of his belly. Sholto turned his gaze on her. “It isn't something you would like to see.”

“How do you know?” Again he cracked a grin though this one was rueful.

“Because it never is. Not with any sweet girl who possesses a shred of sanity.” He grimaced slightly. “I tried a few times with...fetishists but they were so shallow and demanding. It was a completely wasted effort.” Her palm was spread over his belly button, though all she could feel was smooth skin, he felt the warmth of her touch against the sensitive little tentacles that were actually his body. It felt wonderful and illicit.

“Well, I'm not a fetishist, but I'm also a lot less judgmental than most people. And...I can't help being very curious.” She lifted her hand away, resting both on her partially exposed thighs as she sat next to him with her legs folded under her.

Sholto shook his head. “You cannot imagine what it is you ask.”

“Then tell me. What are you hiding?” He frowned at her, becoming slightly irritated with her persistence. Why couldn't she simply accept what was before her? “Please.” She added and looked at him with such sweet innocent curiosity that he softened despite himself. Better to simply scare her off now and be done with it, he supposed. It would only be worse if he tried to become intimate with her and lost his concentration on the glamour in the middle of things.

“Close your eyes first.” He was going to hate her reaction, felt certain of the fact. Obediently Neeve closed her eyes. Slowly, with a nervous effort he let the magical illusion slip away. One of the longer larger tentacles reached out, wrapping slowly around her arm. She shivered at the touch, her eyes tightening a bit as she resisted the urge to open them or pull away.

“What is that?” Her voice had risen a little with fear. “Is that you? Part of you?”

Sholto took a slow deep breath, wrapping another coil around her arm; her skin was wonderfully soft and smooth. “Yes, a part of me.”

Her head moved back and forth as if she were trying to see him through her closed lids. “Can I...open my eyes?”

“...Yes.” He answered reluctantly. She opened them and gasped, her eyes widening with a margin of fear and a great deal of surprise. “I told you it was not something you would like.” For a long moment she stared at the one wrapped twice around her forearm, the tip rubbing against her skin like a thumb moving back and forth in a nervous or soothing gesture.

“It is...different.” Sholto laughed softly, a little bitterly and began to withdraw the limb that gripped her.

“I think that is the kindest way anyone has ever described me.” He smiled at her a little sadly.

“Well...it is a bit of a shock, but they're not slimy at least.” She was tentatively reaching forward brushing her fingertips against the smallest ones. Not expecting her touch, Sholto gasped softly and immediately she tried to retract her hand but the larger limb that had held her before wrapped suddenly around her arm just above the elbow and drew her hand closer. “Oh...thought I had hurt you somehow, but...I guess not.”

Feeling a bit embarrassed by his reflexive grasp, Sholto quickly released her grateful the blanket still covered his manhood. It was not obvious erect, but her touch on those most sensitive tentacles had sent blood rushing through his shaft, firming the flesh. “You're not frightened or...disgusted?” He sounded faintly hopeful though he tried hard to control that hope.

“Startled...not frightened exactly, and not disgusted. Like I said, you aren't slimy, which is good. I was kinda afraid when I walked in...not sure what to expect after...seeing the others, but you're really very handsome.” She smiled, sweet and sincere. “Even with the extra bits.”

For a long moment, Sholto simply reveled in her apparent acceptance. “...thank you.” Her eyes drifted away, shyly rather than in abhorrence.

“Uhm...so...I feel a bit strange just sitting here, but I don't really know what I'm supposed to do. I mean, I'm not an idiot. I know how sex works, I just...I'm not sure how to start exactly.” Her cheeks were flushed brightly with pale color.

Sholto chuckled, it seemed impossible not to like this girl. “You don't have to have sex with me.” He murmured in a slightly rueful tone. She was pretty, with almost moonlight pale skin that contrasted sharply with her ebony black hair, but it was not his way to force himself upon women.

“But I want to-” she clapped her hands over her mouth, the flush in her cheeks spreading quickly outward. Muffled, she spoke again. “I mean, that is to say, what I meant was... I... uhm... she... she said you were lonely and wanted a sidhe but couldn't have one and that I was close enough to sidhe you might like me...Ooh, but maybe I wasn't supposed to tell you that. . .” Her entire face had gone quite pink.

“You want to...?” He could not quite accept that, yet she had answered so promptly, obviously without guile and turned so suddenly pink, embarrassed by her words. He could almost feel the heat coming off her face. She shook her head, stopped, nodded slowly, then hid her face behind her hands not moving. Again, he smiled. “I am experienced, if that makes you more comfortable.”

“N-not really.” She murmured now peeking at him between the cracks in her fingers. Slowly, she lowered her fingers til she was hugging herself. “Won't I...I dunno, bore you, or get on your nerves cause I don't know what to do.”

He smiled at her warmly. “I doubt it. You're very sweet, and honest. Quite pretty as well. That is a very rare combination to find, especially for me.” She was hardly comparable to a pure blooded Sidhe woman, but compared to a human she was exquisite with large heavy lidded eyes and soft full lips.

“Oh...a-alright...uhm...” Putting her hands onto the bed, she leaned toward him tentatively.

Smirking a bit, Sholto leaned forward as well til they were nose to nose, staring at one another silently. “Now what?” He murmured, a slightly teasing tone to his words.

“Uhm...kiss?” She offered the suggestion in a questioning tone.

“What kind of kiss?” It was incredibly fun teasing her so gently, making her flush return.

“I, I dunno. What kind of kisses are there?” She could think of only two kisses; close lipped or french kissing with tongue which she wasn't entirely certain she would like.

“Let's find out.” With a hand, he reached out, running his fingers through her hair til he was gently grasping the back of her head, pulling her closer. He started out slowly, kissing her gently on the mouth, barely parting his lips. Though at first she kept her lips closed tightly, she soon parted them a little, a soft noise of pleasure forming in her pale throat. After nearly a minute of gentle kissing, Sholto pulled back a little ways. “Good?” It was an unnecessary question; the answer obvious by her little sound of disappointment.

“Yes. Very good.” Gently trembling fingertips brushed his cheek lightly, trailing along his jaw, down his neck, past his chest, and into the midst of his writhing midsection. “Can these uhm...I don't even know what to ask.” Stroking tentatively along one length then another, she murmured the words lowering her gaze bashfully again.

Sholto chuckled. “Can they do anything pleasant?” She nodded. “They can...indeed, there are many ways in which I could please a woman with that part of me. Most...don't give me the opportunity.” Again that bitterness.

“Well, that's their loss.” Her breasts were tingling with the desire to be touched. Catching hold of the bottom edge of her shirt between his fingers, Sholto pulled both blouse and vest off over her head. Underneath, she wore a simple blue sports bra. With his two strongest tentacles, he slipped the bra off as well. Her nipples were a pale pink like the faintest shades of a sunset, and were already hard little peaks in the middle of their small circles of color. Smaller rosy tipped tentacles extended upward, sucker like tips covering and teasing her nipples. The abrupt wave of pleasure this caused made her eyelids flutter as she gasped in surprise then gave a low moan of pleasure. “Ooooh...that feels so good...” Wrapping his arms around her, with more than a little reserve, Sholto wrapped some of his other limbs around her as well, many of them stroking or caressing the soft flesh along the smooth curve of her back. A faint light began to show in his flesh, and an even fainter one answered in her own. With a slight shiver she wrapped her arms around him, resisting his strange embrace for less than a split second before giving in to it.

He used a hand to tug the blanket out from under her and pull it over both of them. “I can do more...” His voice had grown lower, husky with desire.

“What else?” She was trembling delicately against him, but it wasn't fear of his appendages, nor disgust. Sholto closed his eyes savoring her desire, her lack of rejection.

He reached down with one of the larger tentacles, the tip of it touching her inner thigh just above the knee then sliding up along her leg until it brushed her panties, warm and soft barely shifting her skirt. She gasped sharply, her fingernails digging into the flesh of his shoulders nervously. “I-I don't know about that.” Quickly, he withdrew the limb letting it wrap around the smooth flawless skin of her waist.

“If you don't like it, I won't do it.” His lips brushed against her throat as he pulled her closer, wanting to touch every inch of her. Her flesh flickered, alternately dim and bright making visible her internal battle between desire and fear.

“It's not that it's a...uhm...”

“A tentacle.” His tone was a little sharp, but calm.

“I wasn't sure if I should call it that...” Her fingers were trailing over his face as though touching him to verify he was real.

His voice carried the power and authority of a monarch. “It is what it is. Speak. What are you afraid of?” With growing anger, he waited for her to say she was afraid of him.

She laughed a little, a nervous shy sweet sound. “I suppose you think I'm afraid of you, but I'm not. Really, I mean it. I'm just...I've never....and I've heard it hurts the first time...”

Sholto lowered his eyelids as he breathed a low sigh of relief. His extra limbs stroked and caressed her as he fought to control himself. When he opened his eyes again, he gave her a warm comforting smile. “I will try to be slow and gentle, if that is what you want.”

She swallowed, nodding. “Thank you. That means a lot to me. You could...be a lot worse and probably get away with it very easily, so, thank you for not being like that.”

“I am cruel when I have to be.” His body wrapped around her smaller form, stroking her flesh, “and very capable of violence.” His teeth nipped at the ridge of her ear, making her gasp a little in pain. “Some women enjoy that in bed.”

Her voice was breathy and soft. “I don't know that I'm one of those...” She moaned softly, arching her back to press her body even more tightly against his.

“Neeve...you're making this difficult...I'm having a hard time holding back.” He could feel her lips near his collarbone, stretching into a smile.

“So am I...Sholto.” Joy stole his voice for a moment. “Maybe...If I was on top...” A thrill of excitement swept through him so that he moaned softly at the thought. “Is that a bad idea?” She asked nervously.

“No...” he forced himself to answer. “No, that isn't a bad idea at all.” Slowly he backed away from her to lay on his back. Sitting up, she stared at him for a moment, her eyes drifting curiously to the slowly shifting limbs growing from his abdomen.

“Can I...touch them?” He nodded, his eyes lingering briefly on the soft curves of her bare breasts before returning to her eyes, relishing the sight of her triple iris. With a nervous little giggle, embarrassed by her own wishes, she reached a hand out to one of the large thick members, wrapping her fingers around it near the end and sliding slowly down to the base. Sholto sighed with pleasure, enjoying her soft delicate touch almost as much as he was enjoying her curiosity. “It's very muscular feeling...”

“It is a muscle.” She giggled again.

“Can you lift weights with them?” Sholto smirked at the suggestion.

“I have never tried, but I see no reason why I couldn't.” He grinned a little bit wickedly and began wrapping it around her arm. Another did the same to her other arm and he began to pull her forward bodily making her gasp a little, startled. “I'd wager...” Another pair extended down, stretching and catching her by her thighs, “I can lift you.” He did so, not evincing the slightest effort as her body left the bed hoisted above his own.

“Oooh!” Crying out nervously, she reached down, grasping at the bases of the tentacles holding her arms. “Oh, put me down! Please! Please put me down!” Chuckling softly, he lowered her gently so that she was straddling his manhood, now firm and erect, the tip brushing warmly against her panties under her skirt. She trembled beautifully, her palms pressing against his chest as she panted in relief.

“I haven't spoiled your desire have I?” He asked gently, his hands settling against her ribs as he shifted his grip on her arms to settle around her wrists, the ends rubbing gently at the backs of her hands. The coils around her thighs remained where they were, the tips sliding teasingly back and forth along her inner thighs, brushing close to her womanhood but never quite touching it. The dim glow of her passion had faded to nothing while his own remained steady but low

“No, it's alright.” She smiled, her cheeks coloring warmly. “It was...kinda fun actually, just unexpected.”

“Fun?” He asked her, a doubtful smile on his broad thin lips. “It didn't sound like you were having fun.”

“Well, I wasn't expecting it. It was more surprise than fear really.”

“Would you like me to do it again?”

“Maybe...a little more slowly.” Grinning broadly, Sholto returned his grip from her wrists to her upper arms and began to lift her again. “Oh my...” She trembled a bit as she felt her weight rise off of him to be held in the air just above his body. A giggle of fearful enjoyment escaped her red lips.

“What a tempting position too...you're completely at my mercy.” He murmured in a playful tone, his strong hands grasping her generous breasts, squeezing them gently before turning his attention to her stiff nipples, rubbing and tugging them. Her low moan sent a throb of pleasure through his cock, making it even harder.

“Ooo, don't stop. Please don't stop.” Her body glowed faintly again with magic, not half so bright as his own. Smaller tentacles along his upper belly reached up toward her skirt, slipping under it then under the elastic bands of her panties, grasping the cotton in little pinches and dragging it down. Squirming, she felt them like a half dozen wriggling little snakes almost, sliding against her sensitive skin for barely a moment. Bringing her lower half a little bit closer, he reached up with the shortest fringe of tentacles, one going straight to suck and squeeze her clit so that she cried out loudly, an inarticulate sound of lust. The others teased her flesh, some sucking, almost like little kisses, a pair slid into her slowly, like probing fingers. Her slick heat was bliss, her soft flesh entrancing as it tightened around him; Sholto felt his power rising, his magic shining brightly through his flesh much more intense than her own. Together they lit the interior of the curtained bed, the light dancing around them with every motion of their bodies.

He could stand it no longer. The strong tentacles on her thighs extended further, reached up, quick as striking serpents, the tips catching hold of her panties and tearing them easily apart, then flinging the shreds aside. Her body was lowered swiftly onto his own, her soft flesh enveloped his hard shaft with excruciating tightness. “It hurts!” The pain was evident in her voice and a wave of guilt made his light falter, but then his tip was pressing against the thin fragile bit of flesh within her, piercing it before he could stop himself. She cried out briefly, tears forming and falling from her eyes as she panted and gasped in pain; the dim light of her magic almost non-existent.

“Forgive me.” He murmured, rolling to put her beneath him. His body wrapped around hers in a way none but a being of the Sluagh could have done. A cascade of gleaming white hair surrounded her as she whimpered softly at the sharp pains. He pulled back, pushing into her again, feeling her hot flesh grow slicker with virgin blood. Slowly, as gently as he could, he pumped into her. “It will feel better.” He promised her, kissing away the tears that were already slowing.

Neeve moaned softly, moving her hips to grind up against him instinctively. His smaller limbs were stroking her breasts, teasing the nipples, and it helped. Trembling pleasure mixed with pain that made her shudder and twitch. The sharpness, so excruciating at first began slowly to fade and be replaced by delight. Another moan, more arousing than the last parted her lips as she began to match his rhythm.

“Does it hurt less?” He murmured concern mixing with his lust. Her body felt spectacular, so tight and warm.

“Yes.” She quivered against him, his extra limbs were all around her body, stroking her gently, that kissing/sucking sensation all along her belly made her writhe with renewed desire. Her flesh shone more brightly, echoing the truth of her reply.

“...I tried...” He felt a stubborn nagging sense of guilt for her pain.

“It's alright...” She mumbled, inviting a quicker rhythm that made him groan with desire. “I hurts less now.” She tilted her head to the side, kissing a tentacle that had been stroking her cheek.

His rhythm faltered for a moment, pausing at the touch of her lips. Before he could think about it, he sent the tendril forward, tracing the soft red flesh of her mouth with his glowing limb. He wanted to ask her to take it in her mouth but the words were trapped in his throat, strangled by the fear of rejection still. Her eyes lifted, meeting his own, questioning his halt then reading the fearful desire. She parted her lips, her tongue slipping out to taste the tip of him, and he groaned with delight sliding it past her lips with ecstatic relief. It was about the width of a thick finger, but the texture of the flesh, the greater length, and the way it moved made it impossible to mistake as such.

Passion made every muscle in his body tremble with delight. Faster and harder, he pumped into her filling the soft tight cavity of her body. Throwing his head back, he gave a low groan as she squeezed around him and sucked on the little bit in her mouth. Retracting it, she looked about to protest when his lips covered her own. Moaning softly at his hungry kiss, she parted her lips for him, and he slipped his tongue into her mouth, tasting her own, tracing her lips from within.

One limb curled around the back of her neck as he continued to thrust into her. Others groped her breasts, still teasing her nipples so that her body thrummed with pleasure; her magic echoing the throb of desire. Shining like the moon at it's brightest, Sholto groaned against her lips. His body felt like a tightly strung bow on the edge of snapping.

"Sholto..." Neeve moaned his name sweetly, her soft voice driving him over the edge. Gasping, the King of the Sluagh spilled his seed filling her soft flesh with his pleasure, overflowing the tight confines of her body as he continued to thrust.

"Ahh...Neeve..." He murmured as the orgasm began to fade. His body moved more slowly, then stopped pumping before he pulled gently out of her. Neeve gasped, crying out softly as his body left hers feeling empty and deliciously sore. Slowly he stripped away the rest of her clothes, flinging them over the side of the bed so they struck the curtain and fell to the floor. "You are a blessing from Goddess." He murmured affectionately in her ear and was rewarded with a blush.

"I'm not. I'm nothing special. You, you're a king." She gazed at him, her body nestled against his as he caressed her with hands and tentacles.

"I am, but being a king does not make one immune to loneliness." Chuckling, he watched her yawn and press her face into the crook between his shoulder and neck.

"I'm sorry. Did I help? Even just a little bit?" He nodded, wrapping her more snugly amid his many limbs and pulling her closer.

"Yes." His lips pressed gently against the top of her head. "You have given me hope again." For long seconds, he listened to her breathe, wondering if she would speak again. "Neeve?" A mumbled incoherent reply was all he got, and he chuckled. The sound of her slow steady breathing and the warm press of her soft body lulled him back to sleep.


End file.
